Memory
by Kannibal Klehmenteen
Summary: Alanna has lost her memory and I know that is so cliche, but its not...
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**Author's Note:**

**So, this is very similar to ****Alanna's Loss****, but aside from the same destination, the plot takes a rather different turn.**

**-Klehmenteen.**

In the predawn hours, Alanna stood beneath the Palace Gate, alone. None of her friends had come to see her off. She hugged herself, shivering in the cold. The past two weeks had been a nightmare. When she was wounded during the Tusaine War, Duke Baird had discovered her secret. He told Duke Roger who told the King. He was very upset and asked that she leave Court. When her father finally arrived, he was shocked to discover that the child training to be a knight was Alanna, not Thom. Ignoring her pleas, he took all of her belongings, leaving her with a dress. He told her never to come home to Trebond again, on pain of death. As the sun rose, Alanna set her slippered feet on the Great Road South and began to trudge to Tusaine.

**Author's Second Note:**

**Sorry, the last chapter I posted was ages ago. It was just supposed to be the prologue as well. The second chapter is coming. In about 10-20 minutes.**


	2. New Life

**The Temple**

Half a year later, a young woman stumbled into the Goddess' Temple in Tyra and fell face first onto the flag stones. The first of the women to recover from her shock shouted for help as she rushed to the travel worn woman. Even unGifted as she was, the acolyte could tell that the woman was injured and dying. Waiting for the warrior maidens, she prayed to any listening gods that the woman might live and share her story. As if summoned by her prayer, the acolyte heard the pounding of the temple guardian's feet. The women stopped when they reached the unconscious stranger and, with a gentleness that seemed at odds with their strength, lifted the woman and bore her away. The High Priestess stepped forward and took the semi-stunned acolyte's arm, leading her away from the bloodied place where the stranger had fallen.

"My dear Mariah, tell me what happened," she said kindly, steering Mariah toward one of the many gardens created for relaxation.

"I was going to pray and ask the Goddess to send some word from home," the High Priestess nodded and they sat on a bench surrounded by fragrant lavender bushes. "She stumbled through the arch, dripping blood on the ground. It was awful! Her eyes locked on mine and even in that brief second, I felt a burden great enough to drive a person to the Black God's Option. Then she fainted.

"I was still reeling from the pain in her eyes when I heard a voice, terrible and great. It told me that the woman's time wasn't up, that I must help her. And I did," Mariah shuddered, "She was dying, I know it."

"Child, you have been blessed. Those who the Goddess chooses lead great lives and are well rewarded," the High Priestess smiled at the younger woman's confusion, "The Goddess' voice could make or break a person. Her approval bodes well for your future. This girl will be your responsibility."

"Thank you, Mother," Mariah hugged the elderly woman.

"Yes, yes. Now get!"

Mariah hurried to where the stranger would be kept. The plain wood door was guarded by two warriors, both for protection and confinement. They nodded and let her into the room. Like most of the novice dorms, this room was sparsely furnished, but comfortable. On the bed, the woman looked vulnerable in the soft green robes of the acolytes. The dirt had been washed from her skin and Mariah could see the extent of the damage. Her face was patterned with bruises and scabs, on her arms, white scars were surrounded by many other wounds. Several fingers seemed to be broken. More of the same covered her legs. Most of the recent looking cuts were an angry yellowish red. The feet broke Mariah's resolve not to cry. Even after being washed, the rocks were firmly implanted in the cuts on her soles. This woman had been battered beyond breaking and endured.

"Still your tears, Daughter," Mariah jumped and looked for the speaker. The Goddess stood before her. Mariah bowed to her Goddess, who had gone to the stranger's side. In a voice that conveyed more sadness than a thousand tears, the Goddess spoke, "My Chosen, what have you become?"

"Goddess! I cannot carry on," Mariah was drowning in violets, warm and deep as the stranger's voice sounded in her mind.

"You must. The pieces are set. Without you, your kingdom will fall."

"Can't you fix it? You are a god!"

"Dear heart, there are moments in time when even the gods must sit back and watch what happens."

"I've already burned up my Gift trying to heal myself."

The Goddess murmured something sounding like, "What can I do with you, Alanna of Trebond?"

Moving to the head of the narrow bed, the Goddess sighed and placed a hand on either side of the woman's head. Silver fire burned through her body, leaving healing in its wake. Mariah noticed that at least one scar stayed, on her right lower arm, the silver fire made it glow before passing through. When the Goddess' healing was done, the woman slept naturally.

"Be careful with her. She isn't at all what you think and she herself will wake with no knowledge of who she is or how she got here," the Goddess cautioned Mariah, "Neither will she or you know how many powerful friends she has. People in high places would take her pain away and kill those who gave it to her. Retribution would be chief on their minds if she was dead. There are just as many men who would kill her. For her safety and yours, tell her that she is Celia of Masbolle, in Tortall. You know no more than that.

"Well child, my time is up and others call for me. My brothers would like to see her, take word to their followers that she lives." And she was gone, replaced by a god dressed in a sari of the Copper Isles, jewelry dripping from his hands and neck. He lifted one corner of his mouth in a mischievous grin and vanished in a sparkling pop of sound. The next god to visit was Mithros. He held his shield in one hand and saluted her with the spear held in the other hand. He too disappeared in a blaze of light and the two mortals were alone again. Thinking quickly, Mariah slipped out of the room to request that a runner be sent to the kitchens for two meals. She slipped back inside and was closing the door softly when a knife appeared at her throat, held by Celia.

"I see you woke up."

"Who are you and why am I here?" Celia's voice was harsh, though whether with disuse or screaming was unknown to either woman.

"Your name is Celia of Masbolle, you walked about three steps into the courtyard before collapsing. The Great Mother Goddess healed you!" Awe was evident in Mariah's voice.

"I remember." Celia removed the knife and sat on the bed. For a few minutes, silence prevailed.

"Where am I?" Celia asked, looking around. Mariah answered, sighing when she realized that many more would follow.

Though she never regained any memory of whom she had been and her Gift never returned, Celia recovered quickly. Within one month, she was enrolled in the convent's school for the daughters of the nobility. Charming, witty and obedient, Celia rapidly gained friends. The sight of her and Crown Princess Elio of Tyra strolling through the gardens was a common one. For two years, Celia excelled at her classes, dance and riding most of all. Although she was short and nearly emaciated at first, soft living helped to create curves. Her chestnut hair and deep indigo eyes had many of the young men who visited often sighing over her. The year she turned 17, all young women of that age were invited to be presented at Court. She had three days to prepare.

Celia expressed her surprise and delight to Elio, "I just can't believe I'm going to be presented! The High Priestess says that my parents haven't sent for me yet, so this is my only chance."

"This isn't that bad. And Court isn't _that_ much fun." Elio laughed.

"Are you being presented too?"

"'Reintroduced' is the proper term."

"Do you think it'd be bad to mention the times our shoes flew off during the more spirited dances to our partners, as a warning?"

If they can't handle flying footwear, they don't deserve to be knights," Elio joked.

"They should go through training! Include that in their studies," Celia said, breaking into giggles.

"I can just see them, bumbling over themselves in their haste to catch the slipper!" The hilarity of this picture had both girls convulsing in laughter.

Despite the nervous tingle in her belly, Celia descended the staircase perfectly, walked to the Royals' dais and curtsied perfectly before walking sedately to join the other maidens in their group. Among the pale yellows and muted pinks of her companion's dresses, Celia's ruby red dress stood to. A murmur had followed her and now many were sneaking furtive glances in her direction. When Elio appeared at the head of the staircase, the heads rippled back to stare in awe. In a shade of green that made her silver eyes glow and her normally brown hair show flashes of auburn, the willowy princess was beautiful. As she walked the strip of carpet leading to the dais, the nobility sunk as one into a deep bow, not rising until she reached the marbled platform holding her parent's thrones. Each of her parents kissed her forehead before turning her to face the people she would rule. The usually subtle courtiers broke out in a spontaneous cheer, making the Great Hall reverberate with sound. The monarchs signaled for silence as the orchestra began a stately waltz and the king led his daughter onto the floor. They spun gracefully for a few measures until the oldest prince led his mother onto the floor. At this signal, other couples began to take the floor.

As each of the other girls was asked to dance by a young man chosen by her family, Celia's good mood began to fade. She would have no partner. A middle-aged man dressed in Tortallan colors came up and bowed to her. She hid her surprise as she curtsied and allowed herself to be led into the ebb and flow of dancers. When the dance ended, he led her off the floor and to a set of chairs, placed so that the weary dancers could rest.

"You are Celia of Masbolle?" He inquired.

"I believe you have the advantage, sir, as I do not know who you are." Celia replied.

"I beg your pardon. I am Count Devin of Malories Peak and His Majesty's Ambassador. I have been sent here to bring you home."

**Author's Note:**

**Hey! Its been a while. Bet you didn't see that coming! Haha. Only not. But anyway, I was originally going to have Elio go with her, but as I wrote, Elio stopped showing up after the first few pages... Oh well. I hope you enjoy it!**

**-Klehmenteen.**


	3. A Whole New World

**A Whole New World**

Celia went through the night in a state of shock. In two days, if the King of Tyra and the Temple Mother allowed it, she would be on her way to Tortall. A home she couldn't remember. A _family_. The stream of young men blurred into one, smiling and bowing. She danced until she saw Elio signaling frantically. She politely excused herself and made her way to where her friend stood.

"You never told me they wanted you to go home!" She accused.

"I didn't know." Celia said calmly, "How did you know?"

"Everyone knows." Elio rolled her eyes, "You know how gossip travels in this place. Even the statues talk." Celia laughed.

"I don't know if I'm even going." She protested, "Your parents have to agree and the Temple Mother too."

"Do you want to go?"

"It's my home."

"But do you want to go?"

"I think I do? I can't even remember ever having lived in Tortall."

"I think you should go." Elio said, "See how you like it. If it isn't where you want to be, there's always a place here for you." Celia nodded and the two separated.

Two days later, Celia stood in her new riding habit, preparing to leave the only home she could remember.

"I'm going to miss you!" Elio said.

"And I'll miss you." Celia replied. The two girls embraced and then Celia turned and mounted the horse the Ambassador had brought her. He gave the signal and they were on their way. Celia never looked back.

The month long journey to Corus passed swiftly for Celia. She was an excellent rider and their caravan passed unmolested through the mountain peaks. As she rode, Celia knew that she had been here before. Her feeling of excitement increased as they drew nearer and nearer to Corus. When they finally reached the city, the building tension within her broke like a wave on the beach. Smells, colors, noises blinded her. Vendors sold meat pies, bread and fresh fruit along the streets. Merchants hawked their wares, each competing for the attention of the flood of people traveling in every direction.

"Keep an eye on your purses lads," The leader of her Guard said. "Some men have no honor."

This comment seemed to be directed at a man, only a few years older than Celia herself. He shrugged good naturedly, hazel eyes twinkling. "You do your job and I'll do mine." He said, melting into the crowd.

Before she knew it, Celia was dismounting in the front courtyard of the Palace. A small group of nobles waited in the sun to greet her.

"Welcome to Tortall, Lady Celia," a tall black haired young man stepped forward. She looked into his sapphire eyes, entranced by the power in him.

"That's Prince Jonathan," one of the men behind her muttered. She quickly realized her error and curtsied deeply, cheeks flaming.

"My apologies, your Highness, I did not recognize you." She stammered.

"You are forgiven." He paused. "Have we met before?"

"No, your Highness."

"Why not?"

"My family sent me away to be educated in Tyra and I have been there for most of my life."

"And what brings you home?" Jonathan was curious.

"My parents left instructions that I be brought home before I turned 18."

"I am sure that they will be happy to see you, after all the years you've been gone." A chestnut haired young man entered the courtyard and bowed to Celia.

"My cousin, Sir Gareth the Younger of Naxen." Jonathan introduced him. "He will be your guide while you are with us." And with that, she was dismissed into the company of Sir Gareth.

As they walked to her rooms, he kept her entertained with witty commentary on the many features of the beautiful Palace.

"Here are your rooms," He said, stopping before a wooden door. "Most of the others in this wing are just visitors, but Sir Raoul of Goldenlake is two doors down, if you need anything."

She nodded and thanked him. Once he was gone, she turned to examine her rooms. There was a bedroom with a large bed and a lovely closet and a bathroom with a privy and a large bathtub. A door in the bedroom opened onto a lovely little garden. Servants had already been in and unpacked her suitcases, so she decided to take a quick nap before the ball that night.

**A/N:**

**Hopefully, you'll see the parallels between ****Alanna; the First Adventure**** and this chapter. Yes, that is intentional. Yes, I do intend to continue writing this. I have an entire chapter written, but it's kind of far in the future and it may take some time to get there. I really hate balls, because I suck at writing about people's appearance without making a list. Haha. That may take a while… But it goes, albeit slowly.**

**-Klehmenteen.**


	4. Shedding

**A/N:**

**Enjoy, finally!**

**Shedding**

Three short months of parties and joy later, Celia and Gary strolled through the immense grounds surrounding the Palace. The sun shone brightly, hinting at the arrival of spring. Neither spoke, each simply enjoying the crisp air and the serene meadow. Their camaraderie was abruptly interrupted by a feral growl. Celia looked down at her stomach sheepishly.

"I apologize. It has been a while si-" Celia's stomach cut her off, grumbling angrily. The two looked at each other and smiled.

"I know just the thing," Gary proclaimed. "We'll have a picnic!" He called one of the servants over and gave him orders to get Jonathan, Raoul, George, Cythera, Ilane and Dorelai and enough food for them all to eat. The servant hurried off and soon returned with a large red blanked which he spread on across the grass. Just as Celia and Gary were sitting down, George arrived, Cythera on his arm. Shortly after, Jon, Ilane and Dorelai appeared, along with the basket of food, carried by a servant. They quickly settled down and the topic turned to the Tyran Court.

"Celia, is it true that the Dominion Jewel was taken from its protector?" Cythera asked.

"Well, the Jewel is really just a myth, but yes, Elio told me that it had gone missing a few months before I reached the Convent. King Rupert claimed it had been taken."

"Did you meet a Doi?"

"I think so."

"I didn't know they left the mountains." George stared at her.

"I don't know. I just remember meeting one…"

"What was your fortune?" Cythera was curious.

"I…It was…" Celia's face darkened as she desperately searched for the answer.

Gary rescued her. Pretending to read her fortune, he said, "I see…lunch with friend followed by a delightful dinner with…" He feigned amazement. "Me? How splendid. I'll pick you up at eight."

Everyone laughed as Celia swatted him playfully.

"Pick me up at seven."

Further discussion was forestalled by the arrival of Raoul and a young man with shockingly red hair.

"Thom! You've returned!" Dorelai enveloped the knight in a hug.

"How was it?" George asked.

"Honestly, I'm just glad he's dead."

Dorelai gasped. "But he was your father!"

"And he ruined my life." Thom's voice was even.

"Not only your life. The rest of us miss her too." Jon's eyes blazed.

"Oh!" Comprehension dawned on Ilane's face. "You all knew Alanna!"

"Yes," Raoul whispered.

"What happened?" Celia asked.

"My father cast her out, half trained. We searched for months. Everywhere we went, she had already left. I came here, to fulfill my duty." Thom was bitter. "I could've been the youngest Master in history. She would have been the first Lady Knight in over 100 years. Instead, I'm out a twin and I'm just one more in a sea of knights."

"It's my fault she was found out," Jon looked into space, seeing the past. "She was hurt and I was stupid enough to let Baird see her. He knew, of course. Somehow Roger found out and she was gone."

Celia's face went white. "Roger?"

"Jon's cousin," Ilane said. "He is the most charming man. Jon, when will he be coming back?"

"I think he'll be back soon. He never really tells us when he's coming or when he's leaving," Jon looked thoughtful. "Alanna never liked him. And ever since the Tusaine War, I can't shake the feeling that she might have been right about him."

Thom shot him a look and abruptly changed the subject. "Celia, how do you like Corus?"

"It's different. I'm not used to attending so many parties and balls."

"What did you do in Tyra?" Dorelai asked.

"Well, I was at the Convent, so I had lessons. In our free time, Elio and I would ride or shop or read if it was rainy." Celia didn't mention the secret lessons in knife and unarmed combat.

Cythera was calm and practical. "We can ride here too. And you don't have to accept every incitation. You'll faint or fall ill and we don't need an angry Princess demanding to know why we've killed her friend."

Everyone laughed as Celia blushed.

"Have you seen any of Tortall outside of Corus?" George asked.

"No, I haven't. I'd like to though. It sounds beautiful."

"Jon, aren't you due in Persepolis soon," asked Gary.

Celia leaned back and the sun struck her hair and her eyes. Looking at her, Thom started. In the bright light, Celia's hair burned as red as flame, her eyes violet embers. A cloud moved over the sun and he laughed to himself at the thought of Celia being any thing like Alanna.

"I am. Shall we make it a grand tour and invite the ladies?"

Gary, ever thoughtful, reminded him, "We'd need a chaperone."

"Duke Roger could escort us!" Ilane exclaimed.

The knights exchanged a look, unnoticed by Celia and the ladies.

"I'll work out the details with Father and see that the King approves it." Thom grinned as Gary launched into logistics mode.

"That's the last bit of sense we'll get from him until it's done."

"Well then. I do believe that I have an appointment with the Lord Provost," Jon laughed. "He thinks he has a lead on the Rouge." The knights snorted, attempting to suppress their laughter.

"Wish him good hunting for me," George said dryly, as the other knights gave up trying to hide their amusement.

Once Jonathan had regained his composure, he left, followed by the others in twos and threes. Soon, Celia was alone with Thom, brother to the missing Alanna. They stood and he offered her his arm. She took it and was startled when he grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm to see the inside of her wrist. A long, thick, white scar ran parallel to the veins in her forearm. Many fainter, thinner scars gave her arms and hands a lacy white sheen.

Thom exhaled with a whoosh. "Who are you?" He demanded.

"Why does everyone grab me and demand to know who I am?" She wrenched her hand from his grasp with surprising strength and strode away angrily. Thom watched her go, noting the subtly military stride and the tenseness of her body. Her body language said she was expecting an attack.

Celia stopped the first woman she saw, an elderly Baroness. Forcing politeness into her voice, she asked, "Is there a Temple of the Goddess here? One where men aren't allowed?"

The woman winked knowingly, incorrectly assuming that she was hiding from a lover, before directing Celia to Temple Way.

Thanking the woman for her kindness, Celia hurried to the Temple of her Goddess, a refuge from men. When she reached the cool dimness of the Temple, Celia unconsciously slowed her steps to a smooth glide. Inside was strangely empty. A young woman, younger even than Celia, walked toward her. Something in her face seemed familiar. Her words sent a shock through the angry young noble.

"Welcome home, My Daughter. I know why you have come." The novice knelt and a beautiful woman stepped from her kneeling body. "You've been gone far too long."

"Goddess!" Celia was astonished. "How may I serve you?"

For a moment, the Goddess' face showed her disappointment. "Tell me child, what do you remember?"

"Nothing before Tyra, milady. Everyone here keeps asking me who I am and where I came from. And all I can to is run and run and try not to admit that _I don't know_."

"Oh, my dear one. It saddens my heart to see you like this. I had hoped that being here would bring back your memory."

"Please, Mother! Is there any way you can tell me who I am?"

The Goddess hesitated. "It will hurt. And the memories are far from pleasant. You will remember who you were, but she had a calling. A terrible task had been given to her. Will you accept this burden?"

Part of Celia longed to know the truth, and part of her screamed no. "Do I belong here? Is this my home?"

"Yes." The Goddess smiled. "These people, the knights, they are your family."

"I want it. I want to know who I am. I will accept your task and fulfill it to the best of my abilities."

"Very well then." The Goddess placed her hands on either side of Celia's head. "Your memories will come back within the month and you will regain your old appearance." Agony flooded Celia, keeping her from fainting. Years, Hours, nanoseconds later, the pain was gone and she was able to slip into the comforting oblivion.

She awoke in her bed in the palace. Seeing her mistress sit up, Mariah called for the healer and turned to Celia.

"Was it the Goddess?" Looking at the girl, Celia realized that Mariah was the one who had found her collapsed in the courtyard, all those years ago. However, her reply was cut short by the arrival of the healer. A brisk examination, and the healer was done.

"I understand asking for a professional opinion, milady, but you can use your Gift to check your own body. You're at full strength. You've got reserves most mages would kill for. And what a lovely color! Same purple as Lord Thom's." With that last remark, she was gone and Mariah was staring at Celia.

"The Goddess enabled me to remember my life. I know I lived here for years. I've seen most of Tortall, and I have an excellent education."

"Do you have a name?"

Celia frowned. "Not yet."

"Oh. Okay then. While you were gone, a messenger came from Sir Gareth. You've been invited to tour Tortall with him, the knights, and Duke Roger."

"I will accept. When is the trip?"

"They want to leave in two days, when Roger arrives."

"You will be my chaperone and my companion, will you not?"

"Of course, milady."

"Good. See to it that my things are packed, my acceptance conveyed and that Elio is notified of my plans. I need to sleep."

Mariah nodded and left the room. Sighing, Celia fell once again into a slumber.

**Author's Note:**

**This has taken a LONG time to update. I apologize for that. Right now, I'm typing up a whole lot of old material and editing, and rewriting, and trying to figure out how to end this.**

**-Klehmenteen.**


	5. Dreamtime

A/N:

Seeing as the entire chapter is bold, an unbolded note seems more correct to me... :D  
This chapter is entirely the realm of Alanna/Celia's dreams/memory. Probably one of my favorite parts to write, I'm not gonna lie.  
I hope you like it.

-Klehmenteen.

**Running, laughing, a boy behind her. Looking back at her younger self, she tripped on a branch and sprawled to the ground. She was startled to realize that in her dream, she had orange hair. He fell onto her and rolled off. She looked into violet eyes and a face that mirrored her own. _Thom._**

**Skipping down an aisle of merchant stalls, an older woman calling her an unfamiliar name. Atop her head sat a black wig. Arms encircled her waist. She looked up into hazel eyes and a mouth descending on her own. **_**George.**_

**The scent of battle filled her senses. She lay wounded next to a large man. Something told her that he was dead. She heard a shout and a beautiful young man was kneeling in the sand by her side. Tears slid down his face to land on her cheeks. **_**Jonathan.**_

**She was furious. Her best friend had abandoned her again. And for what? That cow of a lady, Delia. Arms shaking, she shot arrow after arrow at the target until the quiver was empty. Muttering curses, she stalked to the target and gathered the arrows from the ground where they'd landed. She turned and saw that someone was watching her. Mutely, he offered her the bow and his silent company. She accepted both gratefully. **_**Raoul**_**.**

**Rough wood scraped her palms. Sweat threatened to blur her vision. The boy in front of her was emotionless as he attacked. She blocked, pain traveling up her arms in waves. Relentless, he came at her again. And again. Her weary arms refused to obey her and he brought the wooden practice sword down on her collarbone. **_**Alex**_**.**

**She was trudging along the side of the road, exhausted, when the sound of hoofs pounding on the dirt road reached her. The rider came up behind her and she blacked out as he struck her temple. She awoke to crazed eyes. **_**Roger.**_


	6. The Truth

A/N:

**A/N:**

**So the last chapter was a dream. There was not a Gary moment, but I promise she will have one. Thom was at Trebond, when they were children. Jon was in the Tusaine War, when Thor died. Raoul was a time when Jon ditched her to hang out with Delia. Alex is pretty obvious. Roger is, obviously, a hint of what's to come. Soooo, keep reading and enjoy. Reviews are not only accepted, they are encouraged.**

**-Klementeen.**

Celia woke to the door crashing down. She leapt up and reached into the air beside her bed. Gary's face was illuminated by a soft glow of purple from behind. Thom was there as well. The two men looked puzzled as she continued to reach for something that wasn't there, both recognizing the gesture. When her eyes became accustomed to the light, and she recognized the young men, she sat on the bed, hard. They continues to stare in puzzled fascination until Celia broke down in tears.

"Why are you here?" she whispered, barely comprehensible through the tears.

"You were screaming and crying. I was waiting outside to take you to dinner and when you didn't come out and you were screaming, I thought you needed help." Gary explained. "Why are you hear, milord Trebond?"

Thom looked uncomfortable. "I Felt something. A huge expenditure of magic. It came from this room…"

Both men turned to Celia, who looked at the helplessly. "I have no idea what happened. I was dreaming of my childhood. In the mountains."

"Celia, Masbolle is on a lake near the desert. You grew up in the plains," Thom was carefully neutral. "Unless you've been lying to us." Celia shook her head. "I am authorized by the king to questions possible traitors. You can either tell us the truth, or I can take it from you."

Celia glared at him and hissed, "You can try, Lord Thom, but I promise you will fail!"

At that, Thom turned to Gary and whispered, "I need you to leave. This won't be pleasant and it's easier without distractions."

"Be careful," Gary warned his friend. "She isn't who she says she is, and we all know that. Do you want me to get George?" Thom nodded, and Gary left.

Slowly, Thom walked toward Celia. "It will be easier if you don't struggle," He told her. The glare she sent him said that she would fight him with all her power.

Ignoring the glare, he sat in an armchair and sank deep into his Gift, where the truest form of himself lived. This is what he would look for in Celia. With a thought, he projected his Self into Celia. A thick, foggy glass wall met him. It was divine in nature, he could tell. The specific God was harder to guess, but he was pretty sure it was a Goddess-made construct. Before he had time to think about passing it, the wall vanished. The Goddess had granted him entrance. Now intrigued, he sank deeper into Celia's unconscious, passing the last few years without a glance, Until the moment Celia arrived at the covenant. All the memory showed was a tanned woman, covered in bruises, cuts and filth falling to the ground in a courtyard. Her feet were torn and bloody. Thom tried to follow the memory back, but was again blocked by a wall, this one of violet fire, several shades lighter than his own. It was well constructed, but had been in place, untended, for long enough that it was starting to fade. With a sharp bolt of magic, he brought the wall down. Expecting a flood of memories, he was startled to see only one hidden behind the strongest, longest lasting block he had ever encountered. He was confused. Why would Celia hide this single event behind such a strong barrier? It drifted closer, and Thom dove into it.

_He was Celia. They rode a horse, galloping as fast as it would go. The horse was beginning to tire and terror screamed through Their body. They knew that if the horse fell, Their pursuer would catch Them. Fear made Them urge the horse faster. It was a mistake. The horse fell, taking Them with it. They felt their wrist break as They threw Themselves into the sand. Ignoring the pain, They surged to Their feet and began to run, barefoot across the desert. They knew They had no chance, but They would never let Him know They had given up. And yet, when they heard Him behind Them, They dropped to Their knees and buried the Goddess gift and the Jewel in the sand, marking it with a message for Jon, Thom, or George. They could only hope one of the three would stumble across it. A laugh froze Them in place. They looked up into crazed blue eyes. Orange fire lanced through Them. Darkness. Pain. A voice. Burning. Dancing. Escape. They ran as far and as fast as They could, away from the pain and the anger. Desperation gave Them the energy to blast Their form into new color. They trudged…._

Thom was thrown from the memory by his mirror image. Only this doppelganger showed no sign of recognition, no sanity. She flailed at him until he flew back into his own body, his own Gift. When he opened his eyes, Celia was staring at him.

Celia had no idea what had just happened, save that she had just relived her worst memory. Thom was watching her with something akin to awe. He looked like he had been given a present that broke as the wrapping fell off.

"Why did you do that? Why are you looking at me like that?" She demanded.

"Like what?"

"Like you're seeing me for the first time. Like you've known me forever."

"You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Who you are…" Thom's face fell as Celia shook her head.

"I have no memory past the Convent. Or past…What you saw." Celia was uncomfortable finally admitting the truth. But she remembered the dream, remembered that this man had once been her closest friend. "When you came in, I was dreaming. About a boy I once knew. He was my best friend. It was an afternoon in the late summer. We were running away from someone, and I tripped and fell. He fell on top of me and I was looking into a mirror."

Thom looked at her. "My sister and I used to chase each other through the forest. She was so clumsy."

"Thom," Celia began. "I don't know if I'm sure, and I don't remember everything, but I _know_ you."

He moved towards her hesitantly. "I've missed you," he said. "We never gave up hope."

Celia flung herself into his arms and they embraced. "Who am I," she whispered into his ear.

Thom pulled back. "I think you must be Alanna," he paused. "To be honest, you've unsettled us all."

"How?"

"We all feel like we know you. It makes sense, now. Jon will be delighted that you're back, and George too and Gar-" A noise by the open door had Thom up in a flash of violet. He motioned Celia to come and see what he had caught.

**A/N:**

**More later, my doves.**

**-Klehmenteen.**


	7. Torment

George stood frozen in the hallway, a look of mingled anguish and despair on his still face. Thom unfroze him and he staggered, coughing.

"Why are you lurking in the hallway?" Thom asked.

Attempting nonchalance, George replied, "Oh, you know. Just strolling along. I like to take long walks in the sun…"

"George. Idiot. This is a dimly lit hallway in the Guest Wing of the Palace." Thom frowned. "You weren't conducting business, were you?"

George looked like he had been slapped. "You know full well what I think of doing "business" with you lot. I have just about had it with nobles! One day you'll wake up and I will be gone. Then we'll see how much _you _need _my_ "business!"

"You're right," Thom conceded. "That was rude of me and I do know you. But you still haven't explained your presence in Celia's doorway."

"Gary said you needed me. When I got here, you two were deep in some sort of magic thing so I decided to wait and see what was up."

Celia spoke for the first time, "So you heard everything?" George nodded. "Maybe you'd like to come in and talk." Again he nodded and followed the reunited siblings into Celia's sitting room.

Nobody wanted to be the one to broach the subject.

Finally, George spoke, "So who are you?"

"I don't know," Celia admitted. "But the Goddess gave me back my memories and thus far, they include the knights, my childhood with Thom, you and the…circumstances…leading up to the loss of my memory."

"George, she was pursued by a man with crazy blue eyes and an orange Gift."

"Our Smiling Friend?"

"The very same."

"Who is your smiling friend?" Celia asked.

"Duke Roger of Conte." George's voice was low, precise and full of unexpressed emotion.

"Roger…" Celia whispered. Again, she was thrown into memory.

**Bags on the floor, the Prince hugging his Uncle.  
Roger playing with a shiny jewel, Jon staring at it, entranced. The Black City.  
Roger binding wax figurines in coils and coils of mesh.  
Roger, pulling her out of the sand by her hair.  
Roger, screaming at her, demanding answers and kicking her when she had none.  
Roger, stroking her cheek, dressing her up and making her dance with him.  
Roger, laughing as she screamed "OH GODDESS, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?"  
Roger's scream of anger when she spit in his face.  
Roger, her tormenter, her enemy, her burden.**

And strong arms held her safe again. Large hands stroked her hair softly and a soothing voice whispered gentle nothings in her ear. Celia clung to him as she cried. Memories of her entire life roared through her, stripping away Celia's layers of protections and revealing Alanna's wounds beneath.

**A/N:**

**Happy Holidays, children. I got an Xbox 360. How about you?**

**-Klehmenteen.**


End file.
